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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395006">The Cost</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing'>Saber_Wing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Ties That Bind [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, All my boys are, Archery, Assassination Plot(s), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Brotherly Love, Drama, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Max is a BAMF, Suspense, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s), Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,953</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The warrior’s greave-clad foot bore down above him, and he felt his ribs break. With a sickening crack. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Max screamed.</i>
</p><p> Love comes at a price, as does resentment. The Trevelyan clan learns. In the worst way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Inquisitor/Iron Bull, The Iron Bull/Trevelyan (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Ties That Bind [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1254914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Cost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, guys. I'm just going to come right out and say this. </p><p>I consider this one of, if not the best piece I have ever written. And, just to give you a little perspective, I've been writing since I was eleven. I'm twenty-nine. </p><p>I am so very excited to share this with you. </p><p>This piece has been my brain child since I wrote part six, honestly. I just never had the energy to realize that vision. Until now. A week long vacation will do that for you.  That being said, having read the series, part six especially, will help you significantly. If you're here for the first time, this may be a great introduction. I've tried to write this in such a way that you should be able to follow along for the most part.</p><p>Without further delay, my gift to you: enjoy the ride.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Iron Bull tipped back in his chair. “So, we’re fighting this, dragon, right? And she’s <em>beautiful. </em>Breathing lightning, and shit—”</p><p>Jaxson was nodding along, appearing rather unimpressed to the untrained eye. To Max’s eye, he seemed genuinely interested.</p><p>“—and Dorian was in <em>deep </em>shit. Trapped under her leg. She’d just <em>stepped </em>on him; hadn’t even noticed. But then, he smacked her with his staff. It didn’t hurt her, but she felt it. And she was <em>pissed.”</em></p><p>Max took a swig from his nearly untouched mug of ale, shaking his head fondly. It was just after dinner, and the only people left in the dining hall were himself, his father, Tobias, and The Iron Bull. Aside from the guards standing along the wall, that is, who were both doing a rather poor job feigning disinterest.</p><p><em>“</em>Mr. Bodyguard over here was busy with the other hind leg. Just goin’ to town on it, he’s got a mean backswing.”</p><p>Tobias inclined his head. “Thank you.”</p><p>“I saw what was goin’ on, but I was up by the head, keepin’ her busy. Until she swung around and saw the mage annoying her, like a buzzing fly that you just wanna swat. So, she does. She steps down a little, and he’s <em>really </em>trapped now. I could tell she was gonna go in for the kill. Bite his head off. He went white as a sheet. Probably pissed himself.”</p><p>Jaxson grunted, nodding reasonably. “As one does.”</p><p>“Before anybody else could go for him, the Boss darts in there, right between her, and her big, sharp, ugly, <em>gorgeous </em>teeth<em>—”</em></p><p>“I’m starting to think he was courting her behind my back,” Max quipped, his tone dry.</p><p>“—and he takes out a dagger, and just punches her in the <em>face. </em>Blade between his fingers, fist swinging. He side-steps, punches her in the jaw, grabs Dorian, and rolls out, like he was never even there. Hottest thing I’ve ever seen. He was <em>covered </em>in dragon blood. I just wanted to lick it all off.”</p><p>“Bull,” Max interjected, with a sigh.</p><p>Bull waved a hand. “Then, he’s running like a demon, Dorian thrown over his shoulder. It was funny as shit.”</p><p>“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that,” Tobias chimed, markedly amused.</p><p>Bull took a swig from his mug. “By then, Toby and I were freed up, and it was fine. But Dorian was pretty put out. Mostly unharmed, though. Lucky bastard.”</p><p>“He’d better have been,” Max added, with a long-suffering sigh. “I broke my fist on her face<em>. </em>It still throbs when it <em>rains</em>.<em>”</em></p><p>Bull reached beside him, taking the hand in question and kissing Max’s knuckles. Whatever he’d been about to say, however, was lost in the ensuing commotion.</p><p>Armored footsteps thundered down the hall, distant, but coming closer.</p><p>Max and his compatriots stood, and the guards drew their swords, eyes wide. When the double doors slammed open, an Inquisition scout stood before him, panting. Flanked by one of his father’s men and covered in sweat.</p><p>“My lords, you must come quick!” the manor guard gasped, supported by the Inquisition scout.</p><p>“What is it? What’s happened?” Max clasped the young guard’s shoulder, firm, but calm. Patient.</p><p>The poor manor guard was trembling. He looked young –couldn’t have been much older than eighteen. He’d been part of the scouting party his father sent out the day before, at Max’s insistence. His mother’s caravan was overdue returning from an extended stay with distant family, and considering the recent attempt on the bann’s life, he was starting to worry.</p><p>“I-I…”</p><p>“Spit it out, boy!” Jaxson ground, far less charitably. He rose to his full height, towering over them. “Speak!”</p><p>Maxwell shot an admonishing look over his shoulder. “Give him a moment. For <em>Maker’s</em> sake, father.” He turned back to the guard and his scout, speaking to the younger of the two as softly as he dared. “Breathe, man. It’s all right.”</p><p>The Inquisition scout spoke up for them both. His face was grim, and he fisted a hand over his heart in deference.</p><p>“It is as you feared, Inquisitor,” the scout replied. He was supporting the young guard with one arm around his waist, and he patted the boy’s back as Max watched, almost absently. “The caravan has come under attack. Both ladies Trevelyan have been captured. Everyone else was slaughtered. Us, and Lord Wilhelm, we escaped, but…we’re all that’s left.”</p><p>The silence that followed was deafening.</p><p>“Under attack by who?” Tobias was the first to recover his voice. It was steady, but only just. “Do they march under a banner?”</p><p>“No, Captain. But they were too well armed to be brigands or thieves. Too well armed—and in too great a number.”</p><p>As the scout spoke, Max became aware of a clamor down the hall, again. Of voices, shouting.</p><p>“Unhand me. I will speak with my father. <em>At </em>once!”</p><p>Another voice. Young, shaking. “My Lord, please. You aren’t well. There are healers, here. Let them—”</p><p>The door slammed open, nearly torn off its hinges.</p><p>Wilhelm Trevelyan stood clutching the doorjamb. He was dirty, sweaty. Bleeding from multiple wounds. And he was scowling at Max. Eyes so full of animosity, he nearly staggered under the force of it. “<em>You. </em>I might have known.”</p><p>Bann Trevelyan, who had thus far remained silent, stomped past Max and the guards, approaching his eldest son. “These men will brief us. <em>You </em>will report straight to the infirmary.”</p><p>Wilhelm’s face was red. His eyes, blazing. His dark hair hung in a tangle over his shoulder, more disheveled than Max had ever seen it. “There’s no time for that<em>. </em>Those brutes have Sandra, and they have mother<em>, </em>and it’s because of <em>him</em>!”</p><p>With a pang of guilt, Max realized he’d forgotten Sandra entirely. He’d had little contact with his brother’s new wife before being sent off to the Conclave, and they didn’t know each other well. But she’d always been kind to Max; knitted him a pair of gloves for his last nameday, and he’d been charmed by the gesture.</p><p>Tobias stepped between Max and Wilhelm. “Mind your tongue.”</p><p>“What will you do if I don’t?” Wilhelm chuckled, harshly. He stumbled forward to meet Tobias, bringing them nose to nose. “Pluck it out?”</p><p>“Don’t tempt me.” Tobias’s face remained passive, but Max could see the cold fury in his eyes. “I’ve half a mind.”</p><p>“Would the two of <em>you</em> mind shoving your cods around somewhere else?” Max felt his own temper rising. His brothers could posture on their own time, not his. “We <em>must </em>have order—”</p><p>Wilhelm swung his head around. “I’ll reorder your <em>face</em> if you ever speak to me that way again—”</p><p>“Try it.” Tobias drew himself up to his full height. “I dare you.”</p><p>“Enough!”</p><p>Jaxson stormed over with all the ferocity of a thunderclap and turned toward Wilhelm first, to Max’s surprise.</p><p>“That is the Inquisitor. Andraste’s Herald. You will address him accordingly.”</p><p>Wilhelm scoffed. “Father—"</p><p>“I have <em>spoken. </em>I expect better of you. Of <em>all </em>of you.” The bann turned a disapproving eye on each of his sons in turn before addressing his men along the wall, forgotten thus far, in the commotion. “Escort my illustrious heir to the infirmary.”</p><p>“I don’t need—"</p><p>“Now, Wilhelm!” Spots of color rose high on their father’s cheeks. For all his anger and bluster, Max could see the worry in his eyes.</p><p>Wilhelm snapped his mouth shut, clearly fuming, but he said nothing, instead allowing himself to be led from the room. His shoulders slumped as he turned with them, strength evidently leaving him, and he stumbled a step. Max nearly went to him despite himself—before one of the guards took his arm. The two men steadied his brother, and together, led him from the room.</p><p>The silence that followed was so dense, one of his arrows would have carved a path right through it.</p><p>The Iron Bull, who’d been quiet thus far, grunted. “Well, shit.”</p><p>Max hated being right.</p><hr/><p>They reconvened less than an hour later, after Wilhelm was seen to. Max, Toby, Wilhelm, and the rest of his party sat clustered around the dining room table, having been made into a makeshift war room, maps scattered across its surface.</p><p>“I’ve told you this already,” Wilhelm was saying, nursing a full glass of brandy –his third. “We were set upon just beyond the mountain pass. They had prior knowledge of our route. They were camped out. Waiting.</p><p>“How many?” Max’s voice was intent. He did not flinch under his brother’s poorly disguised animosity. He was tired of this decades-old pissing match, and out of patience.</p><p>“I don’t know! Dozens? I was a bit too busy fleeing for my life to count them all.”</p><p>“Did they have archers? Mages?” Tobias demanded, palms braced on the table, leaning over the maps.</p><p>“I didn’t see anyone flinging spells. There <em>were</em> arrows. I…believe they had archers, but—”</p><p>“This is getting us nowhere.” Maxwell sighed, threading a hand through his hair. “I don’t need guess work, I need answers.”</p><p>Wilhelm’s face flushed scarlet. He rose from his chair, slamming a palm down on the table. “Well, excuse me for not being more helpful, <em>My Lord</em> <em>Inquisitor.” </em></p><p>“Will…” Maxwell clenched his jaw so hard, his teeth ground. “I <em>realize </em>this is difficult—”</p><p>His eldest brother snorted.</p><p>“But I need you to stop taking every word I say personally.”</p><p>“Forgive me if I find my own attempted murder a <em>little </em>personal!”</p><p>Max’s patience snapped. “Do you want our family back, or not?”</p><p>He didn’t yell, but he <em>did </em>raise his voice, high and firm. Enough that the Inquisition guards lining the walls stood at sharper attention.</p><p>Wilhelm looked at Max askance, taken aback. After a long, tense silence, he gave a sharp nod.</p><p>“Then <em>sit </em>down, and if you haven’t anything productive to say, shut <em>up, </em>and let the professionals handle it, or I will have you removed. You are here as a courtesy. I can revoke that at any time.”</p><p>Will bristled. His face turned multiple different shades of red. To Max’s astonishment, he said nothing.</p><p>Max had to put his foot down. He had no choice. His brother had backed him into a corner, and he didn’t have time for it. Here, he was not the third Trevelyan son. He was not Will’s youngest brother. He was the Inquisitor, and his word was law. Max didn’t like to throw his weight around any more often than he had to, but he couldn’t have Wilhelm undermining his authority. Not now. Not with the stakes so high. Not with mother…</p><p>Max sighed. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me again what the kidnappers said.”</p><p>“They told me to run back home. To warn the ‘…<em>powers that be</em>. <em>We’ll give you a head start.’” </em>He faltered. His voice broke. “Sandra, she…they tore her from me. I didn’t want to leave them, but…”</p><p>Max softened, despite everything. “You weren’t given much of a choice.”</p><p>Tobias shook his head. “<em>’We'll give you a head start?’ </em>If they were coming here anyhow, why not wait for the caravan to return, then slaughter the lot of us?”</p><p>“Smells like a trap,” The Iron Bull interjected, for the first time.</p><p>Max rested his chin on his hand. “They know we’re here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were part of the same group that assaulted the manor before. Their original intent was probably to kill father. The rest of you, too, if you’d been here. They didn’t count on us showing up at the last minute to save him, but they’d be stupid not to capitalize on the opportunity. That ‘message' was a red herring. They aren’t coming here. They want us to go to <em>them</em>. Mother and Sandra are the bait. Whether or not they plan to take me alive isn’t relevant. What matters is, they’re here for me.”</p><p>Wilhelm sneered. “Perhaps we'll make an even trade, then. Tell me, what <em>does </em>an Inquisitor's head go for at auction these days?”</p><p>Tobias drew his sword in one smooth motion, bringing the point up to rest at Will’s throat. He tilted his chin up with the flat of the blade. “Threaten him again, and brother or no, I will cut you down where you stand.”</p><p>Max could see Will swallowing convulsively, Tobias gazing on with an expression carved from granite.</p><p>“You wouldn’t dare,” Will quipped, his tone thin, strangled. His eyes darted from one end of the room to the other.</p><p>“Wouldn’t I?” Tobias pressed the blade into his flesh – just enough to draw a thin line of blood. “In the past six months alone, there have been seven attempts on Maxwell’s life. I am not prepared to take a single threat lightly. Not even from you. <em>Especially </em>not from you.”</p><p>“What the hell is <em>that </em>supposed to mean?”</p><p>Toby's face twisted with disgust. “You know <em>exactly </em>what it means, you pompous-"</p><p>“Enough.”</p><p>Both brothers turned their gaze on Maxwell. He stepped between Toby and Wilhelm, pushing the blade away gently with the flat of his palm.</p><p>“That’s enough.” Maxwell turned to face his eldest brother. His gaze, piercing. “He’s all talk. You know that.”</p><p>Wilhelm blanched. Spots of color sprung high upon his cheeks.</p><p>Tobias clenched his jaw. “Max-"</p><p>“But if he really wants to challenge me, if he wants to bring the whole of my armies, and my faithful down upon his head? He is certainly welcome to try.”</p><p>Wilhelm stared.</p><p>“Father might be a bit put out with us,” Max continued, pacing a line between them, hands clasped behind his back. "But, once we've explained our position, I daresay he would concur.”</p><p>The color drained from Wilhelm’s face.</p><p>“You <em>did</em> just threaten to kill Andraste's Herald. Thedas's one hope of defeating Corypheus. Tell me, how do you think my advisers would react? My commander, my spymaster? It is my word that stays their hand. Should I? Stay it, that is.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Although, I do think you’re onto something.” Max shrugged. “If they want me, that’s exactly what we'll give them.”</p><p>Tobias sheathed his sword, with a long-suffering sigh. “Why must all of our spontaneous battle plans involve using you as bait?”</p><p>Maxwell grinned. “Because it <em>always </em>works. We’ll go in and spring the trap. You, me, and Bull. Our scouts can move into position while they’re distracted. It worked on Alexius. I don’t see why it wouldn’t here. Even if we can’t sneak up on <em>all </em>of them, we could eliminate a lot of them before the inevitable battle even starts.”</p><p>“You can’t expect to defeat them all! You have a token force of scouts, and we haven’t the men to bolster them with!” Wilhelm shouted, equal parts incredulous and outraged. He seemed more shocked than angry, throwing up his hands. “And only <em>three </em>of you at the epicenter? Have you gone mad? You’re going to need an army!”</p><p>Jaxson, who had entered somewhere between Maxwell's explanation and Wilhelm’s diatribe, snorted, tilting his chin at Max.</p><p>“If the other two fight anything like he does, they won’t need one. He’s an army on his own. He’d have come through the last assault unscathed if I hadn’t gotten in his way.”</p><p>Max was shamefully pleased by the praise. He couldn’t help his answering smirk. “They wanted me. I’ve arrows enough to answer.”</p><p>Toby’s brow furrowed worriedly. “<em>Can</em> you?”</p><p>Max turned to face his brother, raising an affronted eyebrow.</p><p>“No, no, of course I know you can,” Tobias scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m asking if you <em>can</em>.”</p><p>Max rolled his eyes. “That clears everything right up, thanks.”</p><p>“Don’t be obtuse<em>, </em>you know what I mean.<em>” </em>Tobias ran his fingers through his hair, gesturing at Max, with a scowl. “Your wound!”</p><p>“…is healed,” he retorted.</p><p>“Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen how it troubles you.” Tobias continued to gaze at his brother as if he hadn’t heard, eyes intent on him. “If you falter, even for a moment…”</p><p>Evidently, his eldest brother wasn’t the only one who needed a reminder.</p><p>Max sighed. He pulled Tobias aside, lowering his voice.</p><p>“I’m not a child. I don’t need to be reminded of what happens when you can’t work past pain. I’ve fought through it before. If you think I would put the fate of the Inquisition, and my own <em>mother’s </em>life at risk to spare my pride— "</p><p>Toby’s eyes blazed with fury. “That’s <em>not </em>what I’m suggesting.”</p><p>“Yes, it is.” Max clenched his jaw. “You’re questioning my ability to perform without being a hindrance, and my honesty regarding it. In front of my men.”</p><p>Tobias huffed. He paced away from Max. Stood with his shoulders bowed, and his back to him. He stayed that way. For a minute. Two. So much time passed, Max was beginning to think he wouldn’t speak, but finally, he turned, slowly. His face, a mask.</p><p>“It’s not you that I’m doubting.”</p><p>Max softened. “I know.”</p><p>“You must understand.” Tobias looked haggard. Troubled. Old. Hardened, in a way that broke Max’s heart. “It’s my job to protect you.”</p><p>“I almost died. I don’t expect my big brother to be unaffected by that. But I need my guard captain to keep his personal feelings separate from the chain of command. And, as your Inquisitor, I’m telling you: I can do this.”</p><p>“You’re right.” Tobias’s back was rigid. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>Max clasped his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>Tobias reached up. Covered Max’s hand with his own. “You know I do.”</p><p>“Then <em>trust </em>me. I’m not blind to my faults. I’ll be favoring my wounded side, whether I mean to or not.” Max threw a smirk over his shoulder, in Bull’s direction. “That’s why I’ll have my <em>other </em>front-line bodyguard with me, too. With both of you at my back, we can’t lose.” </p><p>“Maker, don’t say <em>that,”  </em>Tobias groaned, refusing to look at Max. He looked abashed. Ashamed. “You always say that. Usually moments before we lose<em>.”</em></p><p>“Also, before we win<em>. </em>I’m consistent if nothing else.<em>” </em>Max smiled, though his heart wasn’t in it. His heart felt <em>heavy</em>, and he could see it reflected at him, in the circles under Toby's eyes. “I want you with me, but I need you impartial. I need your counsel to be based on logic. Not your own personal feelings. If you can’t do that…”</p><p>“If I can’t, I will relieve <em>myself </em>from duty. It won’t happen again.”</p><p>Suddenly, Max paused. He snorted.</p><p>Tobias raised an eyebrow. “What could possibly be funny?”</p><p>“<em>I’m </em>telling <em>you </em>to stop bleeding your feelings all over me. Oh, the irony. We’ve come full circle.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up,” Tobias groaned, releasing a breath. He offered Max a shaky grin. “Brute.”</p><p>“Fiend.” Max smirked, squeezing Toby’s shoulder again before releasing him.</p><p>Max turned back to the others, raising his voice. “If anyone has further questions or concerns, now is the time.” He swept his gaze out over them and met each pair of eyes in turn until he nodded, satisfied.</p><p>“Good. We leave at first light.”</p><p>Max spun on his heel, making for the stairs. A few hours remained before dawn, and he intended to use them.</p><p>Tobias watched him go, his heart cold with dread.</p><p>“Watch him,” Jaxson said from his elbow, gaze trained on Maxwell. His face was impassive as ever, but there was worry in his eyes. A deep disquiet. He seemed to have aged a decade before Toby’s eyes.</p><p>Tobias nodded, never once looking away from Maxwell's retreating back.<strike></strike></p><p>“I always do.”</p><hr/><p>Max barely slept an hour. It seemed he’d only just shut his eyes and already Bull was shaking him awake.</p><p>He helped Max with his armor –knew his way around those straps better than anyone. And he tried to keep things light, kissing every scrap of bare flesh before strapping it in.</p><p>“Ready to kick some ass?” he asked, with a grin. Max responded in kind, squashing down the trepidation fluttering in the pit of his stomach.</p><p>“Always.”</p><p>This was no normal skirmish. The lives of his mother and a woman he called sister hung in the balance. They couldn’t afford any mistakes.</p><p>Maker, his side ached.</p><p>The wound Max suffered a fortnight ago was entirely closed –the scar his only reminder. There was no danger of opening it again. But magic could only go so far, and though it could knit Max back together, the trauma his body had suffered wasn’t so easily forgotten. He needed time.</p><p>He didn’t have it.</p><p>Solas warned him to be careful before Max sent him off with the scouts – he needed him ready to render medical aid at a moment’s notice. The mage couldn’t do that if he was at the eye of the storm, tossing fireballs at Max’s enemies.</p><p>He’d meant what he said to Tobias. Max had fought through worse before, and likely would again. But he needed to be cautious. He owed that to himself and all of Thedas. His life wasn’t just his.</p><p>Not anymore.</p><p>When they descended the staircase, Tobias was waiting for them, fully armed and armored, silverite plate gleaming in the dim candlelight.</p><p>Max nodded at his brother –his guard captain. “The men are ready to move, I expect?”</p><p>Tobias fisted a hand over his heart, bowing his head in deference. “They are, Your Worship.”</p><p>Max noticed the others, gathered by the doors. Their father. Their eldest brother. The latter was staring at Max. Just staring.</p><p>Wilhelm seemed subdued. Off balance. Squinting owl-eyed, as if Max were a stranger he didn’t quite know what to make of. He couldn’t blame him.</p><p>The Inquisitor was a far cry from the boy who’d left home.</p><p>“Then we ride.”</p><p>He pretended not to see the look Bull and Tobias exchanged. Or the minuscule nod.</p><hr/><p>As the sun rose, so too, did the Inquisitor, and his left and right hands.</p><p>Their adversaries were waiting when they crested the final hill. They hadn’t moved from their prior position. Why bother when they’d known the Inquisitor would come willingly?</p><p>Max's voice was steady as they rode into the center of the enemy camp. He made sure it projected, echoing around the clearing for all to hear.</p><p>“You didn’t have to roll out the welcome mat just for me. It’s so <em>early</em>. Let them sleep in.”</p><p>“Inquisitor,” one man answered—their leader, if the way the others deferred to him was any indication. “I was so hoping you would come. My name is Sabin. Welcome to our humble encampment.”</p><p>They wore no crest, no insignia. No identifying marks to speak of. An assassin’s league –or so Leliana’s last missive told them. If these men were part of the assault on Max’s father two weeks hence –and he was quite sure they were –they were one and the same.</p><p>“After all the trouble you’ve gone to, I could hardly refuse. Rather less clandestine than I expected from a league of assassins.” The Inquisitor inclined his head as he dismounted his horse, the barest hint of a smirk touching his lips. “I don’t suppose you’ll just tell me who hired you and save everyone the trouble.”</p><p>The assassin grinned –a sinister grin, with far too many teeth. “Now where’s the fun in that? Your spymaster has to earn her keep sometime.”</p><p>Max didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he glided forward, eyes locked unflinchingly onto Sabin’s. There was a swagger in his step –deliberately chosen. There to mislead and enthrall.</p><p>The assassins tensed, drawing any weapons still sheathed. Max’s left and right hands responded in kind, placing themselves firmly on either side.</p><p>“Where are they?” Max asked, after letting the silence linger –the tension, build.</p><p>“You don’t think I’ll be telling you <em>that </em>easily,” Sabin quipped, picking his teeth with a dagger. His nonchalance was practiced, no doubt, though he played the part well.</p><p>Max shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You only took them to get me here. And I will double whatever your employers are paying you, for their safe return.”</p><p>The assassin mulled it over. He made a show of studying his fingernails. Cleaning them out. “You’d need to be alive for that,” he finally replied.</p><p>“I would, wouldn’t I?” Max’s grin was sharp. “And why not? I’ve the gold to pay you twice as much for my life as they did. No one must die, and you still walk away with your money. No need for this to result in any more bloodshed.”</p><p>It was Sabin’s turn to shrug. “What if I just <em>want </em>to kill you?”</p><p>“Hmm. That <em>is </em>a conundrum.”</p><p>“You are truly a man of culture, Inquisitor. I <em>knew </em>you’d understand.” Sabin snapped his fingers, gesturing toward two of his men. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you say goodbye first.”</p><p>When the lackeys returned, they had two women in tow. Max's stomach churned.</p><p>Lady Trevelyan was as beautiful as Max remembered. Disheveled, shock of auburn hair falling from its original bun and hanging around her head in a tangled heap. Her cool grey eyes were shrewd, and when the gag was torn from her mouth, she wasted no time voicing her displeasure.</p><p>“Unhand me!” Her eyes fell on him in the center, and they lit up with joy. His mother was not an expressive woman, and his heart fluttered to see it. “Maxwell!”</p><p>Max smiled –genuine, this time. “Hello, mother.”</p><p>“Ever so pleased to see you, my dear. I heard the most dreadful rumor. And, Tobias, is that you there beside him? My, don’t the two of you look dashing. Don’t be rude. Introduce me to your friend,” she implored, regarding Bull with a curious eye.</p><p>Leave it to Lady Trevelyan to think of social niceties at a time like this. Max sighed. “Bull, mother. Mother, Bull. We’ll catch up later. Are either of you hurt?”</p><p>She waved a hand, dismissive. “They’ve not touched me. Left the two of us alone in a tent, without any refreshment to speak of."</p><p>Sandra, whose own gag had been removed, was quite a bit less composed. Her face dirt-streaked and blotchy with tears. “T-They, they hit me.”</p><p>Max’s heart went out to her. His mother could stare down <em>Corypheus </em>and come out of it unflinching, but Sandra was a gentle soul. Unused to combat, or hardship.</p><p>The assassins began to murmur amongst themselves –some of them snickering, most of them incredulous. Max couldn’t blame them. The way they were all carrying on, they could have been talking about how fine the weather was that day.</p><p>“All right, all right, that’s enough! What am I running, a bloody soiree?” Sabin scoffed, disgusted. He snapped his fingers. “Kill them.”</p><p>The Inquisition scouts took that as their cue. They sprang from their places in the shadows, subduing the archers scattered high around the clearing. Their necks snapped, one by one, with sickening cracks.</p><p>When all was said and done, just over a dozen were left standing, staring at Maxwell and company with incredulous eyes.</p><p>“Your men are dead, Sabin,” Maxwell smirked. “I’ve had far too many chances to say that.”</p><p>The next few events happened so fast, he’d have missed them if he’d blinked.</p><p>Max drew his bow and nocked an arrow. Tobias spun around the other way and had Sabin in a chokehold. Bull had pulled a knife at some point and threw it at Sandra's assassin before the man could even reach for his weapon. And Lady Trevelyan’s captor was inching them away, using the trees as cover. Shielding them from view. He was holding a dagger to her throat, using her as a shield.</p><p>“Kill him, and this <em>bitch </em>gets it!”</p><p>“Oh, <em>original,”  </em>The Iron Bull murmured, just loud enough for Max to hear. He chuckled despite himself, the edges tinged with hysteria.</p><p>Lady Trevelyan gasped. There was a quaver in her voice, although her response was predictable, true to form. “Why, I <em>never—”</em></p><p>“I mean it!” His voice shook. He backed them further away, deeper into the forest.</p><p>Max knew without looking that there was no way in hell any of his scouts would take that shot. He knew he shouldn’t, either.</p><p>He raised his bow. Pulled the string taut.</p><p>
  <em>“Your eyes can lie.” Leliana stood at Max’s shoulder, correcting his form. “Don’t trust them.”</em>
</p><p>Max felt the wind in his hair. Heard it rustling the leaves. Felt the fletching of his arrow, brushing against his cheek.</p><p>The tension pulled, tugging at his wounded right flank. Burning white-hot and <em>screaming</em> with pain. He gritted his teeth against it. Forced himself to breathe.</p><p>Steady.</p><p>He took a breath…</p><p>…and let it fly.</p><p>A startled exclamation, from Lady Trevelyan. The assassin crumpled to the forest floor.  </p><p>…and all hell broke loose.</p><p>More men melted out of the forest, seemingly from nowhere –where had they <em>come </em>from? Where had they <em>gone?</em> It didn’t bode well for his scouts hidden around the perimeter.</p><p>No time to think on it. Max dropped to his knees, rolling behind the cover of the trees, and opened fire.</p><p>There was something about being in the thick of battle –an indescribable rush. A fluidity and grace that he found satisfying. It was a grim responsibility, being out here. Some might say an unnecessary risk for the Inquisitor himself. He chose to put his life in jeopardy for the common folk. Not just in closing rifts, but in all things.</p><p>If he and his people could make a difference wherever they were, they’d do so. However they could. For Max, that was non-negotiable. They had the power, the means, and the know-how to make it happen. It didn’t make sense to do otherwise.</p><p>Much as he wished the world were safer, Max admittedly found peace in that rush. It satisfied something within him. Something animal, primal. Here, men survived on nothing but their wits, and their own tenacity. Survival of the fittest, at its best and worst.</p><p>Max picked them off quickly—they were well armored, but arrowheads carved through leather and cloth as easily as flesh if one knew where to aim. And they were fast, ducking and weaving around his arrows.</p><p>But Max was faster.</p><p>Head shot. Down.</p><p>Max rolled again.</p><p>Back of the knee. Down.</p><p>He rolled again<em>.</em></p><p>Tobias and Bull were powerhouses, keeping their attention. Carving through their ranks and diverting their focus from Max and the scouts in equal measure. They’d all faced worse odds, but they were sorely outnumbered.</p><p>Max kept shooting, despite the burning pain in his side. It was a white-hot poker, jabbed in there and left to fester, and he hadn’t the attention to pay to it. He ducked further out of cover to take aim at an assailant who seemed to be giving Tobias trouble, more agile with his lighter armor, and with far fewer enemy combatants to focus on. Max aimed at a gap under his arm. Didn’t wait to see if his shot landed before firing off another, in the thigh.</p><p>Down.</p><p>A startled cry caught his attention from off to the side, and Max whirled without thinking, reaching for the dagger on his belt. He needn’t have bothered.</p><p>His calm, cool, collected powerhouse of a mother was grappling with her own assailant. Before Max could do much more than <em>lift </em>his bow, she had already managed to hook a leg behind his, and spin him around, pinning him face-first against a tree. Stabbing him through the back.</p><p>O-<em>kay. </em>Clearly, she had this handled.  </p><p>When he turned back to the thick of the fighting, there were more men down, but Tobias and Bull were overrun, pressed back-to-back. Even as he kept moving, searching, shooting, he was keeping a sharp eye on them. Ready to duck into the fray at a moment’s notice. Sometimes all it took was one extra body in the open to gain the upper hand.</p><p>A high-pitched scream sounded from somewhere in the clearing, and Max zeroed in on it –feminine, familiar.</p><p>One of the assassins had found Sandra and dragged her from her hiding place along the sidelines, pulling her up by the hair. He was tall and stocky, with legs like tree trunks, and arms as thick as Max’s thighs. He was wearing plate mail –one of the few sets he could see.</p><p>He was yanking her up, slamming her backward against a tree. He held her arms high above her head. Hiked up her skirts.</p><p>Max saw red. He charged out of cover, aiming at the back of his neck, and let it fly.</p><p>The shot did little more than annoy him. The warrior cried out, startled. But it grabbed his attention, which was all Max wanted in the first place. He dropped Sandra like a sack of potatoes and charged at him.</p><p>Max stood his ground. Aimed, fired. The shot connected with the warrior’s arm, but he deflected it, shifted so it bounced off his gauntlet. It missed the crook of his elbow—Max’s original target—by inches.</p><p>He slung his bow onto his back, grim. Drew his daggers.</p><p>The assassin had the upper hand in raw strength, but if there was anything Max had learned, through both experience and instruction, it was that strength alone was never a deal breaker. He had speed and agility on his side.</p><p>They danced around each other –Max alternated between ducking in close and weaving away. He dodged, parried. Tried to stay ahead. The best he could hope to do was wear him down. Wait for him to drop his guard.</p><p>But Max was tiring too, far sooner than he should have. Despite his best efforts, that <em>damnable </em>wound in his side was making this difficult.</p><p>He could absolutely <em>never </em>tell Toby.</p><p>All it took was one misstep –Max ducked to his right, twisted wrong. It was all he could do not to <em>drop </em>his weapons. He didn’t, but he winced inwardly.</p><p>His assailant saw it, of course, as any warrior worth their weight would. Max had given himself away. He started targeting that side –whittling down Max’s endurance, bit by bit.</p><p>The assassin feigned left. Max <em>knew </em>he was going right. Saw the way he shifted his weight. He tried to dodge, to weave away, and it twinged just enough in his side.</p><p>That half-second opening was all his assailant needed.</p><p>Max managed to dodge the sword as it swung down. Dropped, rolled away. He intended to bounce right back onto his feet. He never got that far. The warrior whirled on Max and <em>stomped</em>.</p><p>Down, on his unprotected, lower right side.</p><p>The warrior’s greave-clad foot bore down above him, and he felt his ribs break. With a sickening <em>crack. </em></p><p>Max screamed. He couldn’t help it. And, the warrior had scarcely lifted his foot before Bull was there, axe swinging. Murder in his eye.</p><p>Max understood, then, what watching the berserkers of old must have been like. He wrecked them. Completely. Mercilessly. Came in like a hurricane and left nothing but a path of destruction in his wake.  </p><p>The Inquisition scouts converged on his position –formed up around him, without being asked. Max would have been touched, if it wasn’t taking everything he had not to curl up in a ball and cry.</p><p>He had no idea how long he lay there –his brother was there, at some point. His mother. Sandra, sobbing as hard as Max wanted to. They’d probably heard him—all <em>Thedas </em>must have heard Max scream.</p><p>Sweet Andraste, the <em>pain. </em>Oh, it <em>burned. </em>It hurt <em>so </em>bad.</p><p>Eventually, Max managed to coax himself into a sitting position, with several pairs of helping hands. Biting his tongue so hard, he nearly choked.</p><p>“Easy, take a breath.” Toby's hand was on his back, a comforting weight Max barely registered. “Mother, please. It’s not safe for you here.”</p><p>“Nonsense.” She was crouching down beside Max, mopping the back of his neck with a handkerchief. “I don’t see any more rabble about, do you?”</p><p>Max lifted his head. Slowly, painfully. Braced both hands on his knees. He was shaking, breathing hard. His vision blurred, and he struggled for composure.</p><p>He had to lead them. Oh, Maker. He didn’t think he could <em>stand</em>.</p><p>Tobias read his mind. “Stay down. I’ve got it.”</p><p>Max nodded mutely, shutting his eyes. He focused on breathing. On his mother’s hand, wiping the sweat from his cheeks.</p><p>Distantly, he heard Tobias restoring order, directing their men. Another set of hands touched his abdomen, and it was all he could do not to scream.</p><p>He may have blacked out for a moment –time was moving strangely, and he couldn’t be sure. Together, Solas and Bull were able to coax Max into a semi-upright position. Needed to bind his ribs, they said.</p><p>“I can walk,” Max croaked when they were through. He managed to get his feet under him. Forced himself to stand, and nearly passed out.</p><p>Bull was there to catch him before his knees buckled. He held him up by both arms. Let him rest against his chest. Max allowed himself that. Leaned into him, clinging to consciousness.</p><p>Tobias was speaking. “We have to make camp. We’ve little choice.”</p><p>“No. He requires more sophisticated medical aid than I can give him here. I suspect bruising to his internal organs, at the least. A rupture at the worst.”</p><p>Solas was right. Something was wrong. Something that went far beyond broken ribs. The pain in his gut was a living, breathing entity—burning, throbbing, bleeding. Spreading like fire, and he wished he would burn with it.</p><p>He’d <em>never </em>felt pain like this. It consumed him. Took his breath away.</p><p>“If he’s wounded that badly, can we afford to move him?”</p><p>“We can’t afford not to. If I were to perform an extraction out here, the ensuing infection alone could kill him. Magic, or no.”</p><p>Bull was uncharacteristically silent. Max could feel the tension in his posture. He huddled against his chest, unable to bring himself to move.</p><p>Eventually, Max managed to lift his head. He staggered a step away from Bull, and Tobias was there in a blink, taking his other side. Bearing his weight.</p><p>“Can you ride?” Tobias asked. His eyes were both hard and soft. Locked onto Max with razor focus.</p><p>He knew when to admit defeat. Promised himself, and his brother. He shook his head.</p><p>“Can you ride doubled with me?”</p><p>The thought of being on a horse at all was horrifying. But while Max knew he might end the trip in tears, that was better than ending up dead. He could only nod.</p><p>“Mother. Sandra.”</p><p>Tobias didn’t need him to elaborate. “Taken care of.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare delay on our account. You’ve more important things to do than tend to us.”</p><p>Max recognized the timbre of his mother's voice, strained. Tinged with worry.</p><p>Lady Marian Trevelyan was always in control. <em>Never</em> worried. Never showed when she was ruffled. Not staring down armed assassins or hosting a ball at court. Worry was reserved for children. Gentleness for enemies. ‘<em>Kill them with kindness,’ </em>she’d said. Max had taken to those lessons. No matter how much he’d resented them.</p><p>What could put such uncertainty in that voice? Could make her touch him, with gentle hands?</p><p>“You heard her,” Tobias affirmed. “Quickly.”</p><p>“Bull.” Max struggled for focus. “Stay with them.”</p><p>The Iron Bull growled. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”</p><p>Max's voice broke. “Please.”</p><p>Bull heaved a sigh. He looked agitated. More than Max thought he’d ever seen him.</p><p>“You had to say <em>please.”  </em>He looked at Tobias over Max's head, expression pained. His brother nodded.</p><p>“I’ve got him<em>.”</em></p><p>“Then I’ve got <em>them.”</em> Bull held him, cupped his cheek. “That was dirty, Boss. You know I can’t refuse requests from pretty redheads with eyelashes for days.”</p><p>“Thank you.” The words were heartfelt. Final, just in case. “I love you.”</p><p>“Stop. Cut that shit out,” Bull growled. “Save it for later.”</p><p>“Might not have a later, Kadan.”</p><p>When Bull finally replied, he sounded like he’d been punched. “You know, if you’re trying to convince me to leave, you’re doin’ a piss-poor job.”</p><p>Max forced a smile. “Want me to hit you with the stick again?”</p><p>“Fuck yeah.” Bull barked out a laugh. “Minx.”</p><p>Max chuckled—choked off, pained. “Hurry back.”</p><p>“You’d better be there when I do.” He kissed him deeply. “...I love you, too.”</p><p>Tobias was already mounted. Max insisted on walking. Bull had to help him. He tried to climb up on his own, and nearly fainted dead away when he moved to lift his leg into the stirrup.</p><p>Bull’s hands were around his waist, handing him up. Tobias settled Max in front of him. Wrapped an arm around his middle –the left arm, in an effort to avoid his right side.</p><p>This was going to be the worst ride of his life.</p><p>“This is going to hurt a whole lot.” Tobias echoed his thoughts, trying to keep his tone light, though Max could hear how strangled it was. How hard he was trying.</p><p>“I can take it,” Max replied faintly, the words thin. He actually wasn’t sure he could, but he was going to have to be.</p><p>Solas was there with healing hands, passing them over Max. “Keep him as steady as you can. The scouts have ridden ahead to warn the Bann. I’ll be right behind you. The healers there can keep him stable until I arrive.”</p><p>Tobias held the reins tighter –adjusted his grip. “Ready?”</p><p>Max managed not to start crying, but only just. “Let’s just get this over with.”</p><p>His brother held him close and kicked his horse without another word.</p><p>They rode hard, fast. Tobias was merciless in his pace, pushing the horse to the limits of its speed, or so it seemed to Max. He tried not to make a sound. Wasn’t the least bit surprised when it didn’t work. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop moaning. To shut himself up. To make it <em>stop</em>. That worked. Until it didn't.</p><p>Later, Max wouldn’t be able to recall the length of the journey if his life depended on it. It seemed hours. Days. He would learn that his brother had made the trip in less than half the time he should have.</p><p>He was vaguely aware of voices –shouting, frantic. Had they stopped? Max couldn’t tell. The world was at once both sharp and dreamlike. He felt everything too much and heard absolutely none of it.</p><p>A voice was keening, whimpering.</p><p>Someone else was there now, helping Tobias lift him down. Someone that looked like Wilhelm, touching him with gentler hands than he ever had.</p><p>“Maker’s mercy, how is he conscious?” The voice was too close and far away, small and trembling. It <em>sounded</em> like Wilhelm, and yet, couldn’t be.</p><p>“I’m not entirely certain he is. Max? Shh, dear heart, it’s all right. We’re here, now. We’re home.”</p><p>Max was frightened. Confused. He knew that it was <em>good</em> that they were here. That <em>this </em>was good, but he couldn’t remember how. Couldn’t grasp why.</p><p>But that was Toby’s voice. He could count on his brother. He could trust him.</p><p>“…hurts<em>. </em>It <em>hurts…”</em></p><p>“I know, I know.” A gentle hand wiped his chin –it felt wet. Max tasted copper on his tongue. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Maker’s breath, that’s blood.”</p><p>Toby’s voice –rife with tension. “Thank you, Wilhelm. I hadn’t noticed.”</p><p>“Why is he coughing up <em>blood?”</em></p><p>“Not <em>important </em>right now, help me get him upstairs.”</p><p>Anything else they said was lost in the desperate, agonized cloud that had become his mind. Max was crying, now. Soft, pitiful sobs spilling from his lips.</p><p>Toby’s hand was in his. Max clutched it. It left his grasp at one point, and he couldn’t stop himself from panicking. Scrambling after it, like a man desperate.</p><p>The hand was back, holding his. Another, on his brow. “Shh, shh, I’m here. I’m here, my dear heart. It’s all right.”</p><p>“Keep him still!”</p><p>“I’m <em>trying</em>.” Toby’s voice was raw. “Maker’s mercy, can’t you knock him out? I know you have the herbs.”</p><p>Hesitation. “I shouldn’t. We need him to tell us where the pain is coming from.”</p><p>“Like hell we do, <em>look </em>at him!”</p><p>Max wanted to stop. He <em>needed </em>to stop. He tried to quiet himself–could hear his own breaths, coming too hard and too fast.</p><p>“I understand this is difficult, My Lord—”</p><p>“I’m okay,” Max heard himself murmur, almost unintelligibly. “’m okay…”</p><p>The words came out half-sobbed.</p><p>The silence couldn’t have lasted, however long it might have felt. His brother broke it. And his voice was unrelenting.</p><p>“Do it. Or I will.”</p><p>A clamor at the door. Footsteps, softer this time.</p><p>Solas, cupping his face with warm, healing hands. “Sleep.”</p><p>Max did.</p><hr/><p>Lady Marian Trevelyan had seen many things.</p><p>She’d seen bloodlines rise and fall. Reputations lifted and shattered. Had made both happen herself. She could have any one of the people at her soirees eating out of her hand, and often did. She’d fought bandits and brigands, in her youth. Was no slouch with a dagger, though she’d little occasion to use it.</p><p>Mary was wife to one Bann Jaxson Trevelyan. Had raised three strong-willed sons. She was not easily cowed. Not moved by an errant whimper, or a fallen tear. Her position demanded it be so. Conquer, or be conquered. She’d seen many weaker women and men fall prey to a greater will than their own. She refused to count herself among them.</p><p>There was no hardship she couldn’t face. No demon she couldn’t conquer. No encounter she would let move her unless she willed it.</p><p>Her second son sat motionless at Maxwell’s sickbed, head in his hands. He sat with his shoulders bowed, his back to her. Weeping.</p><p>This was not the first time she’d walked in on someone at their most vulnerable. Emotions laid bare.</p><p>It <em>was </em>the first time she felt moved to tears.</p><p>Maxwell looked ghastly. She could see that, even from the doorway. She wasn’t prepared for the sight of him up close. Wasn’t prepared to see him lying so still, reeking of death.</p><p>His face was ashen—his lips, cracked and bleeding. There were sharp gashes in them, precisely the size of his teeth. They were swollen where he’d bitten through. Barely closed and scabbed over.</p><p>His cheeks were waxy and red with fever. A sheet drawn halfway up his chest. Blood-soaked bandages peeked out, just over the edge. The room smelled of sweat, blood, and sickness.</p><p>Her youngest son lay inches from the brink, and her second, broken.</p><p>Marian had ever thought of herself as practical. Weeping was not. It wouldn’t help either of her sons now. It wouldn’t help <em>her.</em></p><p>Yet her eyes burned, and her heart wrenched.</p><p>She did the only thing she could –settled her skirts neatly around her. Knelt in front of Tobias and took him by both shoulders. She hushed him. Tugged him to her breast.</p><p>Marian was resilient—always had been. She was her children's compass. Their guiding hand. Her <em>own</em> parents left them to the four winds. Had their heir, and their spare, and threw out the rest. Mary wanted more for her sons.</p><p>But she was their guide. Not their friend.</p><p>In doing so, she’d forgotten what she’d wanted most of all, when she was young. She’d wanted a mother.</p><p>It was time she became one again.</p><p>It was telling of his mental state that Tobias didn’t object. Marian had been careful not to baby her sons. As soon as they were out of short pants, they were out of her arms. She’d thought it better that way.</p><p>She couldn't deny that it felt right as it ever had, his weight in her arms. At once both seven, and twenty-seven.</p><p>“Hush, now.”</p><p>“I failed him,” Tobias scoffed, the sound harsh and tearful. “I knew this would happen, and still I <em>failed</em>.”</p><p>“No, my dear heart,” Mary replied. “Never that.”</p><hr/><p>Wilhelm wanted to be angry. He'd held onto that. For so long.</p><p>He wanted to keep holding it, walking into this room. Setting eyes upon his younger brothers, curled up on the bed.</p><p>Will didn’t think Maxwell had moved an inch. Tobias lay curled around him, one hand slung over his hip, another on the hilt of his sword. Neither of them stirred as he carefully shut the door behind him. They didn’t stir as he pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed.</p><p>Tobias hadn’t slept in days. Finding him like this was no surprise.</p><p>Will watched them. For the longest time.</p><p>“You’ve really done it now.”</p><p>Maxwell, of course, didn’t reply.</p><p>“She’s with child, you know. We haven’t told anyone. Wanted to make sure it would take. Now she wants to <em>name </em>it after you. My own wife, and you’ve got <em>her </em>wrapped around your finger, too.”</p><p>He shook his head, derisive. “You always had to have things your way. No matter what it took. You just had to be the rebel, didn’t you? Do you know how much pressure that put on me? Have you <em>any </em>idea?”</p><p>His brother lay still as the dead.</p><p>“Maker, you drove father to madness<em>. </em>He admired that in you. He never said, but I knew the words he <em>didn’t</em> say<em>. </em>Maxwell was clever, and quick, and everything I wasn’t. Why couldn’t I grow half that spine?”</p><p>Will wanted Max to respond, desperate to hear his voice even if it was only to snap back, bite his head off.</p><p>“Now even <em>I </em>can’t hate you!” He laughed, humorless. “Somebody has to. Maker knows the world has fallen at your feet, and now I count myself among them<em>. </em>How do you manage? How did you get all of Thedas to bend their knee?<em>”</em></p><p>Tobias was stirring. He sat up slowly, watching him warily.</p><p>Wilhelm whirled on him. “Is that how he snares them? Goes and does something so damned noble, they can’t possibly protest?”</p><p>“You never hated him,” Tobias murmured, bleary-eyed and unbearably sad. “No matter how hard you tried.”</p><p>“No matter how hard I <em>try</em>, it’s never enough. He <em>outshines</em> me without trying<em>, </em>and he doesn’t even <em>know!”</em> Wilhelm stood up to pace. Waved his arms so wildly at Maxwell, he knocked a vase from a nearby table, shattering it on the floor. “How could you <em>not</em> know?”</p><p>“He didn’t ask for this.” Tobias climbed carefully from the bed. Paused to settle the covers around Maxwell and brushed a stray hair from his cheek. “You know that.”</p><p>“Does it <em>matter?”  </em>Will screamed, far past hysterics. “He got it anyway!”</p><p>“Wilhelm.” Tobias's tone was careful. “We can’t do this here.”</p><p>“Why not<em>?”  </em>Will exclaimed, gesturing wildly at Maxwell again. “<em>He </em>can’t hear it! He’ll probably never hear anything again!”</p><p>The door slammed open behind them, but Wilhelm barely heard. He stormed up to the bed. Towered over it.</p><p>“Give me a smart-ass remark. Come on, I’m waiting!<em>”</em></p><p>Maxwell didn’t speak.</p><p>“Wake <em>up, </em>you blighted <em>bastard! Get</em> over here and yell!”</p><p>He didn’t stir.</p><p>Wilhelm became aware of others. Mother. Father. Tobias. The latter beside him, pulling him away. He was weeping, soundlessly.</p><p>“What is it with you people and <em>crying!</em>” Wilhelm whirled on his parents. “Are we allowed to do that now? Alert the gentry! Perish the thought!”</p><p>He’d never seen his mother and father more speechless. They looked tired, eyes red-rimmed and heavily lined.</p><p>“I’m not finished with you!” He pointed a shaking finger at the bed. “Do you hear me, Maxwell? We’re not done!”</p><p>Tobias pulled on his shoulders again, this time, forcefully. He didn’t leave Will a choice, and he honestly didn’t want one. He allowed himself to be led before pulling out of his grasp.</p><p>“What are you gawking at?” Wilhelm waved a hand, dismissive. Pierced his father with a glare. “If you’re going to disown me, now’s the time!”</p><p>He stalked over to the wall and collapsed into a chair, like a puppet with its strings cut.</p><p>Someone touched his shoulder.</p><p>“Don’t <em>touch </em>me!” The hand retreated.</p><p>Another took its place.</p><p>“Hush, my love.”</p><p>His eyes were burning, but he wouldn’t let the tears fall. He didn’t want it. Didn’t need it.</p><p>His wife knew. Without asking. She always seemed to, that way. She slipped into his lap. Settled in his arms.</p><p>He scoffed, the sound wet and defeated, burying his face into the crook of her neck.</p><p>Tears didn’t count when no one else could see.</p><hr/><p>The first thing Max became aware of was voices.</p><p>They surrounded him. Shrouded him. Rose and fell, like a song he knew, and couldn’t remember. They were soft. Familiar. He knew without looking he needn’t be afraid.</p><p>He wanted to stay there, enveloped in those sounds. In this dark cocoon, where nothing could touch him. The world was sharp and painful, and here, he could be free. Here, he wanted to stay.</p><p>And, for a time, he did. He wasn’t sure how long. That didn’t matter so much, here. But the voices eventually turned to whispered sounds, and words. More distinct. A gentle touch. A hand combing through his hair.</p><p>Eventually, his dark world began to dissipate. Max was weak, but slowly, he grew strong. Strong enough to wonder. To blink open his eyes.<strike></strike></p><p>There were people. Everywhere. Extra beds set up around the room. His father was asleep at the desk. His mother beside him, head pillowed on her arms. Bull’s massive bulk was draped over three separate settees, and barely holding his weight. Sandra was curled up in a chair—his favorite. The one he used to read in sometimes.</p><p>Wilhelm was asleep in a bed on his other side. Tobias beside him, where he always was.</p><p>There was pain—dull and shapeless, suppressed with concoctions and herbs. Max was aware of it, but it didn’t consume him. Didn’t burn like fire or coax him to tears.</p><p>He tried to lift his arms and couldn’t.</p><p>They did move, twitch. Enough that Tobias jerked awake with a start. He looked so tired Max was sorry he had.</p><p>Until his brother turned to him, and his face lit up like the sun.</p><p>Max tried for a smile –managed to get his lips to twitch. Tobias understood. His answering grin could have rivaled starlight.</p><p>“Miss something, did I?” The words were barely a whisper. Tobias had to lean in close to hear. His throat was dry, voice hoarse, and he coughed, agonized.</p><p>Tobias laughed. High pitched, hysterical. “You have the biggest gift for understatement.”</p><p>“What happened?” Max asked. He glanced around again. “Why’s everyone here?”</p><p>“You, my dear heart,” Tobias murmured, filling a glass with water. He lifted Max’s head, bringing it to his lips. “…have been very sick. Your appendix ruptured. A little, useless organ, hereabouts.” He indicated the right side of his own stomach.</p><p>Max drank gratefully. Toby let him guzzle down a little over half before pulling it away. “’f it’s so useless, why did I have one?”</p><p>“Don’t ask me.” He rested the back of his hand on Max’s forehead. “Thank goodness your fever’s come down.”</p><p>“Fever?”</p><p>Toby’s lips tightened into a thin line.</p><p>“I managed to get you here, but it ruptured sometime before, to Solas’s closest estimation. By the time he made it here, some of the damage had been done. We thought we were going to lose you.” Toby’s voice broke. He turned his head, blinking rapidly. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”</p><p>It struck Max horribly, just how much he relied on Tobias. How much his big brother sacrificed to stay. He was struck by the lines on his face—lines that hadn’t been there a year ago. The circles under his eyes that never seemed to fade.</p><p>“You should stay here.”</p><p>He wasn’t even aware he’d said it out loud until Tobias stopped dead. He squinted down at Maxwell.</p><p>“…what?”</p><p>“Stay.” He set his jaw. “You’ve done enough for me.”</p><p>His brother sat there, dumbstruck, for a full minute. Two. That was becoming quite the trend. Max was afraid he’d broken him.</p><p>When his brother finally moved again, he didn’t look startled anymore. He looked <em>angry.</em></p><p>“Oh, no you don’t.”</p><p>Max released a shaky breath. “You’ve sacrificed <em>so </em>much—”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>A tear escaped. Slid down Max’s cheek. “Toby…”</p><p>Tobias's face was set, determined. “I know what you’re doing. I’ve seen it dozens of times.”</p><p>Max avoided his eyes.</p><p>“I’m going to ask you this once, and only once.” Tobias cupped his cheek. “Do you <em>want </em>me to stay?”</p><p>He knew that if he said yes and meant it…if he looked Toby in the eye, his brother would take Max at his word. All he had to do was speak<em>. </em></p><p>Max turned his head away.</p><p>“Look at me.” Tobias coaxed it back. His eyes, fierce. “<em>Do </em>you want me to leave the Inquisition? Yes or no?”</p><p>Max’s lip quivered. He couldn’t make himself want it. He hated himself for that.</p><p>Maybe he always would.</p><p>“No,” he whispered. Defeated.</p><p>Tobias relaxed. He continued to tend to him. Wrung out a wet cloth.</p><p>“You listen to me, Maxwell Trevelyan,” he proclaimed, voice strong and sure. He folded the cloth into a compress. Pressed it to his forehead. “As much as my life has changed, as difficult as every trial has been…I’d storm the gates of The Black City, with you at my side.”</p><p>Love came with a price. Max understood that. Tobias paid it. In the worst way.</p><p>“I pay it gladly.” Tobias laid back down beside Max, wrapped him in his arms. “Come here.”</p><p>Max didn’t think he’d said it out loud. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Tobias just knew him that well.</p><p>“You don’t have to do this alone. Don’t ever think that. Don’t think for a second that you’re a burden to me, do you understand?”</p><p>They stayed like that for a time. Max felt exhausted. He would have startled at the sudden movement beside them if he’d had the strength.</p><p>“For Maker’s sake, are you crying again?” Wilhelm was sitting up, squinting at Tobias, and rubbing his eyes. “Why is everyone <em>crying</em> every time my back is—”</p><p>He noticed Max, and the words died on his lips.</p><p>“You…” Wilhelm cleared his throat. “You’re awake.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Max quipped. “Haven’t decided yet.”</p><p>Wilhelm stared at Max. Shot a stunned look at Tobias. Stared again.</p><p>“Got your smart-ass remark,” Tobias said to Will, his eyes dancing.</p><p>For another few beats, their eldest brother maintained his silence. Then, he laughed. It started small, but eventually dissolved into earnest, hysterical, belly laughs. Tobias joined him; both clearly having taken leave of their senses.</p><p>“What?” Max furrowed his brow. “What did I miss?”</p><p>“We’ll tell you when you’re older.” Tobias was smiling at Will like he hadn’t seen since they were kids, wiping mirthful tears from his cheeks.</p><p>Max’s body took precisely that moment to send him into a paroxysm of coughs. Tobias turned him onto his side, patted his back. Another person’s weight settled onto the edge of the mattress.</p><p>Wilhelm was there, holding a glass at his lips.</p><p>He drank dutifully. Blinked at Will, confused.</p><p>Max stared at Toby. Swung his gaze back to Wilhelm. Searched his face.</p><p>“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Wilhelm admonished, his tone, dry. There was no heat there. No hint cynicism or malice.</p><p>Max continued to stare as Tobias settled him again, with Wilhelm’s help.</p><p>“I’m confused.”</p><p>Will didn’t pretend not to know why. He gave him a look. Inscrutable. Avoided his eyes and shuffled his feet.</p><p>“We should talk. When you’re…feeling better. If you’d…like.”</p><p>Max blinked at him.</p><p>He wasn’t sure why, but he knew, meeting Will's eyes, that things were going to be more okay than they’d ever been.</p><p>“You know something?” Max smiled. “I think I would.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have set up a flickr account, where I've uploaded a few screenshots of Max for funsies, if you're curious. The link is in the series description &lt;3</p><p>Also -- and this is something I've been thinking about, so I feel that it needs to be said -- just because Max has chosen to reconcile with his family, does not mean you have to in your own lives. Sometimes, people are just toxic. Blood ties don't erase that. Further still, even if toxic people ARE willing to change that behavior, that doesn't mean you're obligated to forgive. </p><p>I know the themes and broken relationships I've chosen to portray here are potentially problematic. And, while it was and is a story I have absolutely delighted in telling, the last thing I'd ever want is my readers to walk away feeling slighted. So, there it is. </p><p>Thanks for listening. You're all perfect ❤</p><p>- Saber</p></blockquote></div></div>
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